A Midmorning Mishap
by Whisperwill
Summary: Essl Tsim, a worker in the Temple, makes a mistake that could cost her her life.  Then a Jedi Master steps in.  One shot.


**Disclaimer: I don't own _Star Wars_. Have I mentioned that doing so would require way too much work? And I'm not making money with this fanfiction story. What a shame. :(**

**A/N: Originally completed mid-2009. Contains a new character of my own creation. Review?**

**Rated K+ for mention of blood.**

**A Mid-Morning Mishap**

Essl Tsim, one of many cloak-tenders at the Temple, shuffled out of the changing rooms on the training floor and came to an unsteady stop next to the clothing shaft. The reason for her unsteadiness was that she was holding a laundry container piled so high with cloaks that it seemed the stack would topple over any moment. Not that it would matter too much if that happened—they were all dirty, anyway. Essl sighed; it was nowhere near lunchtime, and already she had enough work to keep her busy until dark. The cloaks had to be scrubbed and rinsed and dried, flattened and folded and returned to the changing lockers. In more than a few cases, mending jobs were needed to repair the little rips and tears that the students managed to acquire during saber training. Essl was not looking forward to that last task one bit.

She plopped the container down and tapped the eighteen-digit entry code into the control console next to the clothing shaft. The square shaft cover slid upward, revealing a tunnel leading into the wall. Essl shoved an armload of clothing into the shaft, listening as gravity did its work and the clothes dropped away with a slight hiss. Suddenly, her keen ears picked up a slight ripping sound. Bending over to peer into the small square opening, she had to restrain herself from cursing in her native language. After being pushed past the meter or so of level shaft space, the cloaks were supposed to reach the drop off and fall cleanly down. But one of them, having already received a tiny tear in the shoulder, had snagged its damaged threads on a protruding bit of metal sticking up from the bend and was hanging stubbornly. And the tear was getting bigger. This time, Essl _did_ mutter a native oath. What had been a small mending job was turning into a more drudging task the longer that infernal cloak was suspended over the edge. She gave a quick, cursory glance at the deserted hallway to ensure that no one was around, then hoisted her small body into the shaft and proceeded to crawl forward.

It was against procedure, she knew. Cloak-tenders weren't supposed to pursue clothes that were out of their reach—that was what the fetching rods were for. But the rods' hooked ends made her refuse to use them in this instance. She would have had to slide the hook over the few threads that held the cloak aloft, thus making the tear even _bigger_. Oh, no—she was going to do this herself, as gently and carefully as she knew how.

Stopping next to the drop, she tugged hesitantly at the threads to dislodge them. It was no good; she was only increasing the size of the rip. The only way to ease the tension was to pull the cloak back up to level ground. She leaned over the drop-off to grab the hem of the cloak and ease it backward. But although Essl could balance mountains of clothing when on flat flooring, she didn't manage to keep her equilibrium when leaning way over a drop. With a screech of surprise, she fell over the side, grabbing frantically at the cloak in the hope that it would catch her. With a final ripping noise, the accursed piece of Jedi-wear came loose from its catch and followed her down.

Essl screamed helplessly as she plummeted in a free fall. The only thing to be grateful for was that the tunnel had no corners or turns for her to smack into. But what about the final exit in the washing rooms? She knew that the cloak shaft ended in a corner of one of the rooms, a square in the ceiling for clothes to fall through—and apparently, cloak-tenders as well. The drop was one of at least ten meters. Could she survive a drop like that? Could _anyone_?

Now was the time to find out. The square of light was just below her. Essl gave a final shriek of terror and clutched the cloak desperately. Maybe it could break her fall.

She emerged into the light, screaming all the louder as the ground rushed up at her. A flash of movement at the edge of her vision confused her—were the other cloak-tenders here already? Would they be the only witnesses of her death? Then, her vertical fall suddenly turned horizontal as someone caught her. She soared through the air in someone's arms—her rescuer must have made a giant leap to catch her, a leap only possible for a Jedi. They came down to the ground and landed smoothly. Essl's breath rushed in and out in quick, terrified gasps as she tried to stop herself from trembling.

"You're safe now," a voice murmured gently. "Everything's all right." She glanced up in surprise. Her rescuer was the renowned Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. He held her small body easily in his arms. Essl's alien form was little enough to pass for a young Human. Cradled against Qui-Gon, with the errant cloak tangled around her body, she could have easily passed for a baby, even among her own kind. Her face colored slightly as she noticed a gangly Padawan of about fourteen standard years of age staring at her over an armful of robes. His jaw was open with disbelief. Qui-Gon seemed to sense her discomfort and set her on her feet, his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

"You're hurt," he pointed out with concern, tugging her upper right limb outward and indicating a long, shallow incision running down her inner forearm. In the terror of her fall, she hadn't realized it was there. It was a mystery to her how he'd noticed, either, since her blood was the same turquoise hue as her skin was. He must have discovered it through the Force.

"Obi-Wan, fetch the medpac," the Jedi Master ordered. His Padawan nodded and hurried to a row of shelves along the wall, stretching up to reach the medpac. He brought it to them and watched his Master's every move carefully. Qui-Gon opened the 'pac and took out a bottle of disinfecting liquid. He dabbed some of it onto a cloth and ran the soft material up and down the length of Essl's cut. When he had finished, he pulled out a roll of bandaging strips and wrapped the incision snugly, fastening the strip in a knot near her wrist.

"There," Qui-Gon said, inspecting his work. "The wound should give you no more trouble, but if it does, go straight to the healers."

"Thank you." Essl's beady eyes moved to take in her new bandage and the shaft exit above. She had more than one thing to thank Master Jinn for. Qui-Gon nodded and smiled. Thanks were welcome to a Jedi, but not necessary, she knew. It was their sworn duty to preserve peace and protect life, wherever they went.

"My Padawan and I were merely bringing our robes to be washed," he commented lightly. "It was fortunate for you that we were here." He shot a half-amused glance at the shaft above. "Do you make it a habit to see your clothes safely to the bottom, Madam Cloak-tender?"

Essl shook her head without replying. Qui-Gon caught her eye knowingly. "You disobeyed one of the rules of conduct, didn't you?"

"No," Essl said flatly: lying came easily to her kind. But although she was sure her answer had been given neither guiltily nor defensively, the Jedi Master seemed to see through its falsity. He folded his arms and fixed her with a stern gaze.

"The Temple is a place for finding truth, not hiding it," he chided her quietly. Essl felt very small—if she was dwarfed by the Padawan, it was nothing to the way the Master towered over her. Yet it wasn't the man's height that made her feel like a youngling, but his commanding presence . . . the way he seemed to know the right path to follow, and made her want to follow it, too, out of admiration for his wisdom.

"I climbed into the shaft," she admitted in a low voice. "It's against procedure."

"Rules are not meant to hinder, but to protect," Qui-Gon reminded her calmly. "I hope you will remember that in the future." He nodded cordially to her and walked away. "Come, Padawan—our assignment briefing awaits." The boy nodded at her as well and followed his Master out, trotting to keep up with the Jedi's long strides.

Essl bent over to pick up the cloak that had caused all this trouble in the first place. The tear now encompassed the whole chest area. She surveyed it glumly, thinking of the long mending task awaiting her. It didn't help to know that she deserved it.

***The End***


End file.
